


I Saw Starsky Kissing Santa Claus

by Dawnwind



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2012-07-06
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:45:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch and Starsky go undercover as Santa and his elf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Saw Starsky Kissing Santa Claus

Starsky grinned impishly at the suspicious five year old in a ruffled organza dress and offered her a red striped candy cane. She narrowed her dark eyes, refusing the bribe.

"Tiff'nee," her mother wheedled. "Take the candy and sit on Santa's lap."

Tiff'nee pushed out her bottom lip, as defiant as a Vietnam protester refusing to back down from National Guard tanks.

"Tiff'nee!" her mother fumed. "Get on the man's lap so's I can get a damned picture for your granny."

"No," the child insisted, eyeing the red suited gentleman on the gold throne. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Wanting to salvage the already tense stand-off, Starsky shrugged, causing the bells on his green and red elf costume to jingle merrily. "Okay, next in line, then!"

He held out a candy cane to the red haired, two year old behind Tiff'nee. The toddler burst into tears. Starsky rolled his eyes, this was pretty much how his whole day had gone, but he plastered on a non-threatening smile for the 100th time. The redhead sobbed. The child must have heard the warning 'don't accept candy from strangers' and had taken it to heart. He wanted nothing from a weird curly haired elf.

Staring haughtily over her shoulder at the tot, Tiff'nee smirked with five year old superiority and flounced over to Santa's chair. Plopping her beruffled self down on his lap, she examined him critically. "Are you the REAL Santa Claus?"

"I'm one of his helpers, Tiff'nee," Hutch replied solemnly, his voice slightly muffled by the bushy white beard practically eclipsing his face. Starsky risked a quick glance at his partner, amused by Hutch's discomfort. "Santa Claus is back at the North Pole finishing up the toys." Hutch recited from the script he'd memorized. "Have you been a good girl this year?"

"That's no fun," Tiff'nee said archly.

"S'my turn now! The petulant two year old suddenly got over his tantrum, apparently deciding that if a girl could get up on the old man's knee, so could he. His mother tried shushing him but he shrieked all the louder.

"I want a Barbie Alpine Vacation Cabin, both her cars--a Mustang and a Land Rover, horseback riding lessons--not for Barbie, for me! A Lite Bright, an Easy Bake oven with a chocolate cake mix..." Tiff'nee demanded.

Starsky set up the Polaroid camera and snapped two photos of Tiff'nee and Hutch before taking a third one of the antique store just opposite Santa's Wonderland. He got a nice clean shot of Donald Bordeaux, the main suspect in a series of thefts at Nederholzer's Antiques. At last count, nearly two hundred thousand dollars worth of antique collectibles had disappeared. Mostly small pieces that weren't immediately missed. There had also been a few shipments which were confirmed with UPS but never received in the store. UPS said that Bordeaux had signed for every one of them.

Bordeaux, an unassuming man with a dumpy physique and almost no hair, had been working at the store for almost a year. The thefts had started three months later, but there was no real evidence, aside from his signature on the UPS invoices, that he'd taken anything. Starsky and Hutchinson were amongst a team of detectives assigned to monitor Bordeaux while he was at the shop. Another group was set to follow him in his off hours.

Jules Nederholzer had agreed to have police send a decoy package to the store containing things Bordeaux seemed most attracted to: old silverware, assorted silver hair clips, fancy buttons, and small fetishes, in the hopes of enticing Bordeaux. The box had arrived earlier that day, and Starsky hoped with all his might that Bordeaux would steal the thing.

Starsky couldn't wait to get off of robbery detail and out of the green tights and bell trimmed ankle boots of his elf costume. At least Hutch got to wear a warm red velvet suit and full white beard for his disguise. Starsky felt like a refugee from a Robin Hood movie, and he was very aware of the interest many of the moms had taken in his green clad ass and calves. He'd heard the soft murmurs of approval coming from the waiting line, but while they were flattering, those weren't the eyes he wanted looking his way.

"It's MY TURN!" The two year old proclaimed stridently just as Tiff'nee departed Santa's lap. The small boy rushed Hutch with the force of a mini linebacker headed for a touchdown. Hutch let out a distinct 'oof' when the redhead landed in his lap. Scrambling around for a better look, the child grabbed hold of Santa's glorious beard.

"Hey!" Hutch gave a strangled yelp, his blue eyes pleading with Starsky to announce that Santa needed a break. "Young man, no tugging on the beard."

"Don't look real." The child stopped pulling but held on with a chubby fist, inserting the other fist in his mouth with a loud sucking sound.

While Hutch was jollying up the boy Starsky smiled apologetically at the two other mother-child duos in line, and clipped a velvet rope across Santa's grotto, to prevent any more visitors. A miniature Shirley Temple type with her golden sausage curls tied back in a pink bow gave out a wail that rivaled the Torino's siren in both pitch and volume. Her mother patted her ineffectually, saying that Santa had to go feed the reindeer.

Lining up the shot of Hutch and William-the-conqueror, Starsky kept his eye on Nederholzer's. Bordeaux was leaving for his lunch, carrying a regulation dome topped metal lunch box. Starsky reached below his desk to press the button alerting the robbery detective team loitering at the exit of the mall to keep watch for their quarry. He snapped off a shot of the suspect before getting one of William once again tugging on Hutch's false beard.

The gum chewing cashier elf, the only non-cop working that day, rang up the sale of the photo for William's mom, pushing the more expensive gilt frame over the plainer cardboard one.

Starsky held out a hand to escort Santa-Hutch to his dressing room, grinning to himself when he felt the brush of fur trimmed velvet on the back of his hand. With any luck Hutch's replacement, Lonnie Atkins from Vice, who already had the natural padding and white beard of a picture book Santa, would be there on time.

"I think that kid peed on me," Hutch complained when they'd gained the relative safety of the employee break area. "Starsk, you've got the easy job! That girl yesterday threw up on me, and a kid this morning was half vampire--he kept chewing on my hand instead of the candy cane." Hutch held out his palm for evidence. There were two bruises which looked remarkably like teeth directly in the middle.

"Least you don't have the moms running their hands over your butt when they walk past." Starsky joined in the grouse session. "I feel like a runway model for the North Pole's latest designs."

"You do look cute in tights," Hutch said sotto-voce as he opened the dressing room door. "All your assets on display."

Luck was with them. Lonnie was just adjusting his red velvet cap atop his white hair and practicing his ho ho hos.

"You sound like a pro, Lonnie!" Starsky complimented. "Go out and wow those kids."

"Ankle biters," Hutch muttered.

"Thanks, Starsky." Lonnie lumbered past, shaking a string of jingle bells to announce his coming.

"This is just a prime example the overindulgence of parents these days." Hutch started in, dropping his velvet cap on the couch. "Those children had no concept of the maxim that it's better to give than to receive. They all wanted more and more and more..."

Starsky carefully locked the dressing room door, then lifted up the edge of Hutch's long beard, kissing him on the neck. "More," Starsky said, kissing him a second time. "And more." He kissed him a third time. "And more."

"Starsky, what are you doing?" Hutch asked, sounding a little dazed.

"Giving instead of receiving." Starsky was practically hidden under the large expanse of beard, but he did his best to undo the big black buttons on the front of Hutch's jacket by touch. Each time he slipped one through the button hole, he kissed the t-shirted chest underneath. "I thought you'd given up all that euphoric sentimentalism crap for Lent, or whatever." He continued his slow journey down Hutch's body. Starsky was a talented man, he could kiss, unbutton, and discuss philosophical issues, all at the same time. He liberated the pillow that had given slender Hutch some girth and tossed it behind him, continuing on his quest to the South pole.

"N-not for lent..." Hutch giggled when Starsky nailed his belly button. "I did it for..." He hissed in a breath when Starsky managed to peel the jacket off of him, all the while still kissing any part of the anatomy he could find. "You."

"I know." Starsky popped up in front of Hutch again, smiling at him. He liked the way his smile made Hutch's mouth curve up and his eyes twinkle. "I know that it's harder for you to get into all the presents and stuff, but you turned around that attitude when I didn't kick the bucket."

"Thankfulness can do wonders." Hutch started to pull off the beard, which was hooked around his ears like glasses, only with elastic loops.

"Nope, leave it on," Starsky said in a sultry voice.

"I can't kiss you back with this thing on, my mouth is full of hair."

"So's mine." Starsky dived in for a direct hit on the lips. It was a hairy kiss, but warm and cozy, too. Hutch smelled of candy canes and gingerbread, with just a hint of sweat thrown in for spice. Starsky licked all the way around Hutch's mouth, clearing a path of white hair, and kissed him more properly. "That's better."

"Mmm, I'll say." Hutch wrapped his arms around the elf, tugging at Starsky's jerkin. "But I thought you never liked that mustache. Said it was bristly."

"It was, this isn't." Starsky wiggled in Hutch's embrace, rubbing his cheek against the soft artificial hair of the beard. "This is more like the fake fur coat Molly had last year."

"If I recall, you liked petting that, too," Hutch chuckled. He was still tugging at Starsky's clothes without success.

"Gotta unbuckle the belt, Einstein," Starsky murmured in his ear before latching on to a convenient pink ear lobe and sucking.

"Oh, yeah..." Hutch muttered, going to his assignment with gusto. He was just about set to strip his Christmas elf naked, but stopped, throwing Starsky off balance.

Starsky was concentrating on any portion of Hutch's upper body he hadn't kissed on the first go round, and when Hutch let go of his costume he fell backwards onto the couch.

"What'd you do that for?" Starsky whined.

"You did lock the door?"

"Thought of everything, Kris Kringle." Starsky waggled his eyebrows at his lover. "Now get down here and show me what you're gonna put in my stocking." He grabbed Hutch by the belt loops of his velvety pants, pulling him forward. With exaggerated care Starsky zipped the fly down, letting the pants drop away. "What do you have here?"

"Ho, ho, ho, little boy, if you don't know, you need to go back to school for an anatomy class," Hutch laughed when Starsky began feeling him up, running light fingers over his boxer covered erection.

"Y'know?" Starsky asked wickedly, pretending to lose interest in the object that was poking him in the cheek. With Hutch standing and him sitting, he was in a perfect position to admire what might have been the eighth wonder of the world. "What is it about this ho, ho, ho business? You and the Jolly Green Giant related or something? Cause he says it, too."

"We're cousins," Hutch answered, taking the opportunity to divest Starsky of his ridiculous little green outfit but there was no way he could get the tights off with his elf sitting down.

Starsky rose up, thrusting his fingers into the thick luxurious white curls, tickling Hutch on the collar bone. "I could have guessed from the family resemblance." Starsky wiggled, pressing his groin into Hutch's prominent erection. "And I don't mean the skin color."

"Then you must be in the Jolly family, too." Hutch tugged at Starsky's emerald green tights, trying to get him down to bare skin.

"Uh-uh," Starsky warned, grabbing hold of the waistband to prevent being stripped. "You first, Santa. It's in the elves' union bylaws. Santa Claus gets his presents before everyone else. That way he's all happy when he's delivering the gifts."

"Well, I can't argue with logic like that." Keeping his arms around Starsky's waist, Hutch shuffled them around until he could sit down on the threadbare sofa, pulling Starsky onto his lap. "Have you been a good little boy this year, David?"

"I've been naughty as hell, Santa, but I know a way to get back on your good side." Sitting sideways on Hutch's knees, Starsky could feel something pushing up against his butt as if it were trying to unseat him. He winked, throwing one leg over Hutch's so that he straddled him. Hutch's cheery red erection popped up into the space framed by their four legs. "Oh, look! You made me a candy cane."

"I did indeed, little man. Suck it down like a good boy and you'll have something inserted in your stocking before you know it."

"You promise, Santa?"

"Does Santa Claus ever renege? He's a man of his word." Hutch gasped when Starsky captured his cock.

"Kid down the street when I was nine got coal for Christmas 'stead of a Lionel train." Starsky settled on the floor between Hutch's thighs, dedicating himself to his appointed rounds. Taking Hutch in his mouth had become one of his all time joys in the last year. He'd discovered the perfect way to turn Hutch from uptight and grousing into a purring kitten inside of five minutes. On a day like today, when they were both in a giggly mood in the first place, it was even better. A happy Hutch was a mellow, easy going Hutch. If all things went as planned, Starsky might even swing for a pizza with everything at Uno's, the new Chicago style joint that had opened in the mall, and then drag Hutch into the electronics store to point out the latest in VCRs.

With that happy thought, Starsky opened his mouth, tonguing the luscious stick he held. Hutch moaned, his thighs quivering. Starsky grinned, closing his lips around his prize and beginning to hum 'Jingle Bells'. That would drive Hutch mad in more ways than one. From his own experience, Starsky knew he loved the feel of vibrations on a swelling penis.

Hutch was going wild--but then he'd threatened to shoot the mall sound system if they played the ubiquitous Christmas tune one more time, so it was a toss up whether it was the sensation along his cock or the choice of songs that was making him cry out in ecstasy.

"You can have a Lionel train, anything you want!" Hutch grabbed Starsky by the ears, trying to plant him more firmly between his legs.

Starsky popped off long enough to complain, "Hey! If they weren't pointed before, they will be now! Leggo of my ears." However, he went back to his task with a smile of triumph. He had his answer. Hutch was putty in his hands.

Swirling his tongue around his favorite confection, Starsky sucked, hummed, and applied just the right amount of teeth until Hutch was so close to the edge that it took just a single squeeze on the tightly packed testicles to send Hutch over the rooftops without a flying reindeer in sight.

Starsky just hoped the sound system was playing something loud, like Handel's Messiah, to cover the roar of approval from his victim.

"You learned that technique at the North Pole, did you?" Hutch asked weakly, unhooking the heavy beard from his sweaty face.

"Elves have extensive training in working with their hands," Starsky said innocently, peeling his tights off under the very approving eyes of his partner. They didn't have time to play around any more. In fact, they shouldn't have indulged so recklessly in the first place, but never let it be said that David Starsky let an opportunity for some nookie pass him by. "Gotta get those Poloroids over to Metro, and log out."

"Yeah." Hutch stayed where he was, watching Starsky resume his everyday costume of jeans, a candy striped sweater, candy cane socks, and sneakers. Starsky's favorite blue and white Adidas had been discontinued, so he now sported red Reeboks.

"You hungry?" Starsky pulled on Hutch's arm, getting him to his feet. "We could get some pizza."

"Pizza sounds good," Hutch agreed, giving himself a quick wash up in the chipped sink. The water was icy. The mall was stingy enough to turn off the hot, even in winter time.

Starsky laughed when Hutch's family jewels shrunk up at a single touch of the cold washrag.

"Practicing your ho ho hos?" Hutch tossed the wet rag at Starsky with an unconvincing growl. "Cause if we didn't get Bordeaux today, I can always arrange to let you suit up in the red velvet tomorrow."

"Elves' union, paragraph 17 subsection 8 says that only Nordic looking sex gods get to be St. Nick." Starsky flipped the rag into the laundry hamper with wrist action that Wilt Chamberlain would have envied.

"Sex gods?" Hutch raised a blond eyebrow in mock disdain, taking jeans and a plaid shirt from his locker. "Why do I get the feeling that you're angling for something?"

"You making a list?" Starsky hung the fur trimmed red suit and beard neatly on the rack, and folded his tights, jerkin, and jingle bell trimmed hat, placing them on the shelf above.

Waiting for Hutch to finish tying his shoes, Starsky inspected the furniture. Their enthusiastic activities hadn't even made a mark on the couch, not that anyone would have noticed, what with all the mustard, catsup, and other unidentifiable stains on the dingy upholstery. Except for the faint lingering smell of sex, nothing looked out of place, and he had a remedy for the smell.

"You ready?" Hutch had on his leather jacket, once again the blond, clean shaven detective instead of a bearded mythic figure from the North. Starsky found himself missing the long white beard. It had been fun to nestle underneath the comforting blanket of hair.

"Just a moment." Starsky opened the janitor's closet in one corner of the dressing room. He'd seen just what he needed the day before, after the janitor had spruced up Santa's grotto and was putting his supplies away. Starsky had always wondered what made the artificial enclosure smell so enticing. Ah ha, he found what he was looking for, just behind the pine scented floor cleaner. Gingerbread scented room deodorizer. Just the thing.

With careful aim, Starsky pulled the trigger just as Hutch walked into his shot.

"Damn, Starsky!" Hutch wrinkled up his nose. "Now I'll smell like a bakery for the rest of the day."

"If I don't mind, why should you?" Starsky added another spritz at the sofa, and kissed Hutch on his cheek. Hutch never had five o'clock shadow the way he did. Hutch was still as smooth as when he'd shaved that morning, and smelled just like cookies right out of the oven. "In fact, I think you should use this aftershave for the rest of December."

"And I thought you wanted to look at VCRs later," Hutch said dryly, heading out the door.

"How did you know?" Starsky galloped after him.

"Santa always knows." Hutch winked.

FIN


End file.
